The False Kiss
by EightEminus
Summary: A few drug addicts found dead seems like an open-and-shut case to Gene. However, the case turns into an adventure that pushes Gene and Alex to their limits physically, "professionally and in... in other ways." GALEX Now Complete
1. Case Closed

**Disclaimer: I do not own Ashes to Ashes. BBC/ Kudos do.**

**AN: I last wrote fan fiction aaaaaaages ago, for Harry Potter. So this is my first story for Ashes and also my first on this site. Let me know what you think.**

**Case Closed**

When Mrs. Elk looked out of her window across the park, she thought it was just another fire. There had been a few of them in this park and, like on previous occasions, she did not hesitate to call the fire brigade.

This one was closer to the trees than the others. Still far away enough that it wouldn't set the whole park alight but closer, much closer.

Still, what did it matter? Probably just kids messing around again. It was barely a matter for police since no one had been hurt and very little damage had been done.

Suddenly, the situation got more complicated.

They found a body nearby.

They called Fenchurch East CID.

"I'm telling you Bolls, open and shut case."

"And I'm telling _you_, Guv, you can't just take it as what you see. Maybe someone just wants us to think-"

"Chris!" said Gene, halting his storming into his office, instead wheeling around and addressing his Detective Constable, much to the annoyance of Alex, who had been storming after him. "Can you please re-cap the case for my esteemed Detective Inspector since she is clearly unfamiliar with the facts-"

"Oh, for God's sake, Guv," snapped Alex, "I know the case, you don't have to-"

"Oi, less talking, more looking at Chris and the magic wall. Look, things are going to appear on it. Look, look!"

Sighing, Alex took a seat opposite the whiteboard and arranged her features into a look of mock fascination that she instantly felt guilty for. It wasn't Chris' fault Gene had pissed her off so much already and he already looked pretty flustered.

"Erm, right, so yeah, basically, Fenchurch East Fire Department was called to Haladane Park two nights ago at three in the morning, in response to a fire by Mrs. Elk. Sorry, a call by Mrs. Elk about a fire. Once they had put the fire out, they found the body of a twenty-two year old white male. His name was Peter Brown, who was done for possession a year ago and he had died from a heroin overdose, probably taken in the park where he died since he was found with the needle."

There was a pause.

"That's it," concluded Chris with small shrug of his shoulders.

"No it isn't," said Alex, getting up and taking the pen from Chris, even though he hadn't written anything. The Guv made a big show of rolling his eyes and sighing, which Alex either didn't see or pretended not to notice.

"Yes, Brown had previous for possession. However, there was enough heroin in his house to suggest he was a dealer."

Alex drew a line from the picture of Brown that adorned the whiteboard and wrote her point next to it.

"However, you're all missing the most important point: the significance of the fire."

Gene sighed and this time Alex did notice and fixed her slowly narrowing eyes on him. He took this as encouragement to dive straight in with his mockery.

"The significance of the fire, Drake? Is it a premonition of how the Earth will be devoured by the Sun come the apocalypse? A time-old symbol of Man's quest for light and warmth? Or is it the physical embodiment of the burning sexual frustration suffered by every man in this building every time you turn up to work wearing _those _jeans with _those _boots?"

Alex looked down at her long legs. So he _had_ noticed.

"Reports from forensics and the fire service put the start of the fire and Brown's time of death within an hour of each other at most. If Brown started the fire himself, we have to ask why. If Brown was already dead and then the fire was started, we should wonder why the fire-starters didn't notice the body, if indeed they didn't notice it. We should also consider the possibility that Brown was murdered and that-" She raised her voice over the sounds of disbelief from her male colleagues, "the fire was started to burn evidence."

"But why burn evidence at the scene?" Ray asked. "Surely it would've been better to take the evidence away, in case the fire didn't destroy it all."

"Well, maybe the evidence was too cumbersome to carry away-"

"Or maybe we should 'consider the possibility'," interrupted Gene, his fingers waggling around Alex's phrase, "that there was a fire, started by some kids in a park. Junkie comes along, sees a nice warm fire, settles down, shoots up and dies. "What was supplying the fire, Drake?"

"Wood."

"Any suspicious objects, or remains of suspicious objects found?"

"No, Guv."

"Case closed then." With that, Gene got up from his chair and finally managed to storm into his office, the door slamming shut behind him.


	2. Alex Drake Detective Agency

**An: Thank you to those who have reviewed so far! Hope you enjoy chapter 2.**

"This doesn't mean you're right, you know," said Gene.

He was sitting at his desk, a tumbler containing a shot of whiskey was being lovingly cradled in his hand. Alex was perched on the opposite side of the desk, flicking through a file.

Another heroin addict had died. This one had died in what was supposed to be a house but was too run down to be considered a home. Outside, a fire had burned, consuming wood.

"Lots of druggies die. Lots of fires are started by wood. Occasionally two might happen at the same time."

"What, twice?" Alex closed the file and turned around to face Gene. "We could have a serial killer on our hands, Gene. Both deaths have the same MO."

"One died in his home, that is not the same MO, Bolly."

Alex leaned back slightly. Gene hated it when she did that and how she was looking at him now, considering him. As though she was about to do something that she knew would piss him off and she was trying to work out how much she cared. He wished sometimes she would care a little bit more.

It didn't look like it was going to be one of those times today since Drake turned on her heel and left his office. Her voice carried back to him.

"Ray, I want you to look at the old files on the deaths of drug addicts and dealers, paying special attention to those that mention a fire in the vicinity. Chris, ask the Fire Department about fires involving wood in the area of Fenchurch East, especially recurring ones, going back three years. See if at any point, there was more information on the type of wood being burnt."

There were murmurings of "Yes Ma'am" as Alex tried to make her way back to her desk. Gene called her back.

"Drake, who's in charge around here?"

"You are, Guv."

She didn't look embarrassed, damn her. More hesitant, as though she was sure of what he would do.

"Then why are you telling my officers what to do?"

"Supposing you're right," Alex said. "Supposing the deaths are exactly what they seem, addicts taking too much, leading to death. The fires are new. You could have a new supplier around. A new web of drug trafficking that you have to stop before the problem gets out of control."

XXX

A few hours later, Alex was at her desk looking at the files Chris was excitedly putting in front of her.

"There are five areas in Fenchurch that have had fires more than three times in the past year where before they didn't have any. The earliest was eleven months ago. All in all, there 'ave been thirty three of these fires, all of them with wood. Twenty seven of these have used furniture, chairs and tables and stuff."

"Furniture," breathed Alex. At last, a breakthrough. "What about the others?"

"Nothing, Ma'am," Chris replied. "It was either furniture or not identified."

Alex smiled at Chris. "Excellent work. Go and help Ray, he hasn't managed to find anything yet." Chris returned to his desk and was greeted by a large pile of files dumped in front of him by a disgruntled looking Ray.

Alex went to Shaz's desk and asked her to research any furniture stores that had opened just before the first fire. As she turned to go back to her desk, she caught the Guv's eye through the windows of his office. Neither of them said anything but she was reluctant to break eye contact. It always meant he had won.

XXX

They were sat at their table in Luigi's, complete with glasses of wine and a half-empty bottle.

"I'm not sure I like it when you take control of my team, Bolls."

"Control freak," said Alex, good-naturedly, relieved to see Gene give a fleeting half smile in return.

"I suppose you managed to find results. Chris and that thing with the chairs, Shaz found that store- Ray found nothing but not even you can have everything, eh Bolls?"

Alex laughed quickly and gulped a mouthful of wine to steady herself. Just for a split second, a very strange idea had entered her brain. If she was going to keep her sanity (even if she was in a world that was twenty years ago), she would have to trample on that idea. She couldn't have everything, not really.

"I have a question," said Gene, leaning in.

"What is it?" asked Alex, trying not to whisper as though they were two lovers on an intimate date.

"At what point during your 'Alex Drake Detective Agency' saga is it the bit where we haul in scum and let me do what I do best?"

Alex smiled wryly. "If by 'what you do best' you mean using physical intimidation, then hopefully never. As for arrests, we need evidence, Gene, yes we do," she said as Gene rolled his eyes and downed the rest of his wine.

"And the scum?"

"Chris and Ray are staking out the Farrant's Furniture store for a few days. We'll see what they find first."


	3. The Upper Hand

**AN: Again, thank you to those that have reviewed and put this story on alert, enjoy the next instalment :)**

**The Upper Hand**

Gene laced his fingers through Alex's. He felt very uncomfortable, even though the whole place was nearly empty. He thought about asking her why she was making him do this but he already knew the answer.

She led him towards a dining table, the 'Susannah', a model which Gene remembered had been the third most purchased item during Ray and Chris' week-long stakeout. As Alex dropped his hand to examine the table, Gene wondered if this was how it would be if he was married or engaged to Alex for real- her leading him around, making all the decisions. He doubted it somehow. For all of Drake's 'I'm-the-most-senior-woman-in-the-Met" bossiness, he _was_ in charge in CID. Sometimes.

"What do you think, Bolls?"

"Very sturdy, Guv," said Alex, looking up at him.

"Don't call me that," Gene snapped. "We're supposed to be undercover."

"Sorry," smiled Alex, "Very sturdy,_ darling."_

"This isn't a game, Alex," whispered Gene. "Anything else?"

Alex ran her hands over the table, her fingers lightly caressing it. Gene watched in amazement as she glanced shiftily at him, then pressed her face until it was inches from the surface. All though Gene now had an excellent view of her arse since she was bent over, he noticed someone wearing the shop's uniform staring at her.

"Bolly, get up."

Alex stood up just as the shop assistant walked over. Her face had broken into a wide smile which she quickly hid.

"Can I help you?" said the assistant.

"Hello," Alex said brightly. "We would like to buy this table."

"This table is available to seat six or eight," said the assistant smoothly. "Which one do you require?"

"This exact one, the eight," replied Alex. She looked teasingly at Gene. "Don't you agree, darling?"

Gene eyed her carefully. He knew why she was doing this. She thought that he hated every minute and it was true that he felt very out of his depth. However, he knew that was because Drake was in charge of the situation, that she had the upper hand. Alex wasn't going to get away with it.

"We're getting married, you see," explained Gene, snaking his arm around Alex and pressing a kiss to her hair, causing her to stiffen slightly. "And we're planning on having plenty of children, meaning the larger table will be necessary."

Who had the upper hand now?

The assistant muttered his congratulations and walked away to fetch a 'Susannah' from storage. Alex turned to face Gene, a strange look in her eyes.

"Well, that was the story, Bolls," Gene murmured, his eyes twinkling.

"I know," she sighed. "I supposed I asked for that."

It wasn't until the table had been loaded into the Quattro and they were halfway back to the station that Gene remembered.

"Why exactly, Bolly, were you sniffing that table?"

XXX

She didn't tell him until they were back in the office. Gene carried the box through, almost dropping it when he heard her tell Viv to get her a saw. He dumped it on Alex's desk and watched her open it.

Alex smiled as Viv left the saw next to her but not leave CID. She knew everyone was watching her since even for her this was eccentric.

The table was in pieces but had still required a huge box. _Ikea will show you how this is done one day_ Alex thought. She took one of the legs out of the box and held it over the edge of the desk. She picked up the saw and placed it against the wood. Just before she used it she glanced up and noticed a strange look on Gene's face. Alex had seen that look before.

"_You, in leather, holding that. Gives me the right horn_._"_

Alex began to saw.

"DI Drake, my patience is wearing thin," said Gene as half a leg fell to the floor.

Alex picked up the leg and looked at the cross-section. "Not hollow, bugger," she muttered, throwing it to Gene who caught it and seemed to realise what she was trying to do.

"Chris, take this, get another saw and slice it up. Bolly, what the bloody hell are you doing now?"

Alex had taken the table surface out of the box, lain it across her desk, and was now smelling it, just as she had done in Farrant's. She stepped away from it after about a minute, tears pricking at her eyes.

"I was so sure," she whispered.

"Drake, stop fannying about!"

"Smell it, Guv."

"What, did you just say, Drake?"

"Just do it," Alex said and watched as Gene's outraged face bent over the table. He exaggerated an inhale and looked back, still furious.

"Well?"

"Well what? Smelled like wood an' varnish to me."

"Not vinegar?"

"No," Gene said shortly. "Did you think there was heroin in the varnish, Drake? Or in the table leg?" He gestured over to Chris who was covered in sawdust. "Chris hasn't bloody found anything and I bet he won't in any of the other legs. Face it Drake, the fires are nothing more than a coincidence and you are wasting my time!"

Alex tried not to flinch, those had been her thoughts. She didn't see how this could be wrong, how the assistant could have known they were police officers and sold them a clean table. Had he heard them talking? But then she had been so sure she could smell vinegar in the display table and that's what heroin smelled like…

Ray picked up a ringing phone, listened to it then turned to Gene.

"There's been a house fire. Whole family dead. Man, wife, two kids. Blaze started by wood, specifically burning furniture."

**AN: I should point out that what I know about heroin- specifically that it smells like sweet vinegar- I got from Double Cross by Malorie Blackman. I'm also assuming it's possible to mix it with varnish, so sorry if it isn't.**


	4. Million Degrees

**AN: Thank you so much to those who left reviews! You are awesome!**

**Million Degrees**

By the time Gene, Alex, Chris and Ray had reached the site of the fire, the firemen had mostly put the fire out. It was too late for the Mayhew family, all of whom had died of smoke inhalation.

The head of the Fenchurch East Fire Department briefed Gene and Alex on what had happened. The Mayhew house had been broken into and a large pile of furniture put in the sitting room and set alight. The fire had quickly consumed the house, killing Grant and Kelly Mayhew and their two sons, all through smoke inhalation.

Alex felt slightly sick as she heard the story, looking at the ruined house. She wondered what motive someone could possibly have for murdering a family.

XXX

Grant Mayhew had no links to drugs, nor had his wife or their children. No drugs were found in the house. The more Alex looked at each case, the two addicts and now the Mayhew family, the more convinced she became that they were linked. The more Gene looked, the less convinced he became.

"The fires," Alex muttered.

"Doesn't mean anything," said Gene. "There is no serial killer here, Drake."

"But Grant Mayhew and his family _were_ murdered, Gene. None of them had any drugs in their system and the house was broken into. How do you explain that?"

"Not with a serial killer! The MO is too different!"

"Guv? Ma'am?"

Gene and Alex turned towards Shaz who had just entered Gene's office. She held a stack of notepaper in her hands and there was a small smile on her face.

"Kelly Mayhew didn't work," Shaz began, "but Grant Mayhew was an accountant for Foster and Son."

"Posh git," said Gene looking quickly at Alex. "Thanks Shaz."

"There's more, Guv," said Shaz. "One of Foster and Son's clients, and a client that Mayhew had worked with closely, was Dominic Dexter, the artist."

Gene snorted. He had no time for art but he did recognise Dexter's name. Alex had left a copy of _Cosmo_ on her desk a few months back and he had flicked through it, out of curiosity, obviously. He wasn't a poof or anything. Once he had got past the numerous articles on shoes and orgasms, there had been a whole double page spread on Dominic Dexter, the hot new painter who would "take the London Art Scene into the future by way of blinding minimalism, bold design and dizzying sexual excitement."

Shaz was still talking. "Dominic Dexter has a first cousin in the furniture business. Specifically, Michael Farrant, the owner of Farrant's Furniture."

Alex leapt towards Shaz and threw her arms around her. "That is _excellent_ work, Shaz!"

As Shaz beamed and left, Gene said, "I hope you aren't under the misguided impression that that was a breakthrough, Drake."

"It's another link to Farrant, Guv."

"By a million bloody degrees of separation!" Gene shouted.

"Maybe they weren't all murdered by a killer with burning furniture as a calling card," Alex shouted back, "but all the deaths are suspicious, yes even the drug users, and Farrant could be the key to discovering a major drug network."

"Or maybe not," said Gene nastily. "Get your coat."

"Why?" asked Alex, annoyingly.

"Because, Madame Fruitcake, I have a murder to solve, if that's alright with you! Arson committed in the afternoon, someone must've seen something."

Gene pushed past Alex into the main office of CID. Alex stood in the doorway.

"I'm staying here."

Gene paused then turned around. "Why?"

"I'm going to go over the stakeout reports. Just in case."

"In case of what?" When Alex didn't answer, Gene started shouting again. "Face it Drake, there is no link! The table we have has no drug traces, even forensics agree! We have no reason to link Farrant to heroin-"

"The table in the shop-"

"What part of no proof do you not understand?"

There was silence, Alex staring at Gene with cold fury and Gene staring back with hot anger. He seemed to be actually shaking and Alex couldn't help but wonder…

"Are you accusing me of lying, _Guv?"_ she spat the last word at him as though it was an insult. This was a new low in their relationship, never before had she had to fight with him this much in order to get him to listen to her.

"Not necessarily. You could have been mistaken."

"I know what I smelled, Gene!"

"Do you though, Drake? Maybe it _was_ vinegar. Maybe it wasn't anything. Ray, come with me, if Drake thinks that policing outside of the office is beneath her."

Ray scurried in front of Gene and at the doors, Gene turned around to look back at Alex.

"And it's Guv, Drake."


	5. Ray's ArseBandit

**AN: Plot gets moved along a little. Enjoy and please review!**

**Ray's Arse-Bandit**

Alex pored over the reports, going through the same sentences again and again. Nothing had really happened during the week-long stakeout except people going in, buying chairs, tables, bookcases and suchlike, then coming out again. Ray and Chris had described each person and each purchase in detail, probably as a way to punish her. Ordinarily, this would have backfired since detail was exactly what Alex wanted and reports of this kind almost never contained enough. It didn't backfire in this case. If there was any clue in there, Alex couldn't find it and neither Ray nor Chris had recognised it at the time.

Ray, incidentally, was in the Guv's office, going through witness statements regarding the Mayhew fire. A neighbour had heard noises and seen a gang of five people break into the house carrying chairs, tables, wardrobe doors, you name it. Of course, she wouldn't have been able to see any faces from that distance, that would have made Alex's job, and OK the jobs of everyone else in CID, far too easy. The gang had sped away in a white Ford Transit.

"How original," Alex had quipped. Gene had given her a dirty look, so Alex had decided to keep her mouth shut and just get on with it. She may have pushed Hunt too far already. She didn't want to completely lose him.

Now, Alex had noticed something in the reports. It was a ridiculously small something and the part of her consciousness that spoke with a gruff Manchester accent scoffed at her for even considering that it might be a clue. Nevertheless, she got up and went to speak to Chris.

What Chris said pleased her immensely and the Manchester voice in her head clammed up. With a grin she knocked on Gene's door and opened it.

"What is it, Bolls? Half price at perms-are-us?"

"No actually," said Alex, noticing that it was 'Bolly' again. "I wanted to ask Ray something."

"I was right then," smirked Gene. "Or is it seventy-five percent off?"

"Ray, can you look at this please?"

Ray took the piece of paper and frowned at it.

"My surveillance report. What about it?"

"Look here." Alex pointed to a highlighted sentence.

"The obvious arse-bandit went into the shop bein' observed and pointed to the 'Susannah'. The assistant came over and also pointed to the 'Susannah'. Then the-"

"Skip to the next highlighted bit Ray," said Alex hastily as Gene sighed in impatience.

"The assistant packed up the 'Susannah' and helped the arse-bandit carry it to his car." Ray looked up from the report. "So?"

"Ray, think very carefully. When you saw the 'Susannah' being packed up, was it one from storage? Or literally the one the customer pointed at?"

"Oh I see what you mean. No, it was the display table. The one there in the shop."

"That's what Chris said." Alex looked at Gene and was relieved to see the same expression on his face as she was sure was on hers, an intense excitement that came only with a breakthrough.

"The table he gave us wasn't the display one," said Alex.

Suddenly, the shutters came down over Gene's face and he poured some whisky into a glass.

"It doesn't yet mean anything. He could have run out of that model or…"

"Yeah, and maybe Ray's arse-bandit is a dealer or a user and the assistant knows this and sold him the dirty table-"

"Oi, he's not my arse-bandit!" protested Ray, "I'm not, you know…"

"Everything comes back to Farrant though, doesn't it?" said Alex. "His furniture in the fires and now this."

"What do you propose we do, Bolls?" Gene was leaning back on his chair a smirk playing around his mouth. Alex stared at him, surely it was obvious.

"We bring Farrant in, Guv, or at least demand another sample of furniture." Was he dense? Clearly not by the way his smirk widened as though that was exactly what he thought she would say.

"Not yet. You forgot the Mayhew connection." Gene took out a brochure from his desk and passed it to Alex. It was of Dominic Dexter paintings, brought out to publicise an auction this Friday.

"If we haul Farrant in now, we will lose the upper 'and," said Gene and Alex almost punched him, she could hear the same words in her cut-glass accent. "Better not to let them know we're onto them."

"So what do you propose?"

"Another undercover operation at the fancy black tie gallery opening and auction this Friday. Since we don't know how the circles of Farrant and Dexter overlap, we'll take our old cover stories, only this time, Ray, Chris and Shaz will be in for back-up."

"The story where we're engaged?"

The smirk fell away and Gene almost looked embarrassed. "That's what I said, Drake."


	6. The False Kiss

**AN: So, I updated this morning, but to be honest, the chapters so far have been very plot-heavy and not enough GALEX. This chapter, whilst it does move the plot along (hopefully!) also has some romance… sort of.**

**The False Kiss**

_So this is what Dexter meant by dizzying sexual excitement_, thought Gene.

Shaz and Chris were playing happy couples over near the auctioneer's podium and Ray had quickly found the most pornographic painting in the room, Lot 273, which Gene too was looking at.

A naked woman, body beautifully detailed, yet without a head. There were comments on a white plaque below claiming how it showed how disgusting it was that women were depicted as sex objects, how this painting represented the Feminist Movement of the nineteen-eighties and how brave it was of Dominic Dexter to tackle female oppression in this way.

Gene was unconvinced. He thought it was braver to throw yourself under a horse than to paint a picture and getting your fancy-pants art friends to fawn over it but he didn't really have the confidence to say so, not even to Ray. Drake would know about art though. Where was she?

At that moment, Alex finally arrived and Gene almost hyperventilated at the sight of her. She wore a beautiful dark blue floor length gown that clung to her hourglass figure. Her lips were painted a deep red and her hair was swept up onto her head with just a few ringlets left hanging down to frame her face. He heard Ray whisper "Flaming Nora" just as Alex moved her hand so her finger sparkled.

Gene smiled. Alex was going to hate him for this but he would only be acting as per the terms of their cover story. Quickly, he walked over to her, flung his arms around her waist and kissed her gently on the mouth.

He pulled away almost immediately and noted with satisfaction that her eyes were wide and bright and that a small pink blush was creeping onto her cheeks... and growing redder with every passing second. Quickly, he grabbed her hand and drew her over to the wall where Ray was. Alex faced the wall unseeing, trying to lose the colour from her cheeks.

Gene said, "Have to make it believable, Bolls."

"I should have arrived with you," replied Alex. "We are supposed to be married after all."

"Engaged, not married, still buying bloody furniture for the house." Gene was enjoying himself, for the first time that night. He liked this game of predicting the future with Alex. They would probably never have a future together but this would be the closest he would get to pillow talk with her.

He decided to take it further. "Maybe we should have pretended to be married for fifty years." She laughed and he continued, "You know, taking each other for granted, living a sexless marriage. I wouldn't have to kiss you then. I would have picked you up from your flat and got over your dress there."

Alex laughed again and the brightness of her eyes and the blush in her cheeks didn't seem inappropriate anymore. "I don't know about you, Gene Hunt, but I am not old enough to be married fifty years. Why did you drag me over here anyway?"

"In case your obvious inability to handle to the charms of the Gene Genie is noticed by anybody and blows our cover. If we're engaged you should be used to it!"

"I thought it was to look at this," said Alex, pointing to the painting. Gene looked too.

Lot 273. Shit.

"_Dizzying sexual excitement_," he quoted. Alex snorted, to his surprise.

"I had never read so much tosh before I read that article," she said. "You can't have both bold designs _and _minimalism. And this painting is just horrible."

"You don't like art?"

"I love art," said Alex, briefly remembering Easter holidays spent dragging Evan around art galleries. "And this is terrible, which fits in nicely with our theory."

"How?"

"That the art thing is probably a front. More than that, it might be a way of getting the drugs on the streets, like the furniture. Cocaine dissolved in the paint, that sort of thing. One day, this'll be how they get drugs into the country. And look in the corner here, a daffodil."

"So?"

"About half of the paintings have a daffodil somewhere. It's probably a code, indicating which paintings are clean of drugs- and so which can be bought by collectors- and which are to be bought by dealers and users."

"So we want a painting with a daffodil?"

"Not necessarily. The daffodil could imply a clean painting," said Alex. "Did you bring the camera?"

"Yeah, but we had to leave it in the Quattro," said Gene. "No flash photography in here."

There was a flurry of movement around them as people began to move to seats set out in the centre of the room and voice came over the speakers, asking for their attention.

The auction was about to start.


	7. The Auction

**The Auction**

"Lot 273."

Gene caught Ray's eye from across the room. _Buy this one, Guv_ his eyes begged.

They already had a non-daffodil painting, a particularly ugly oil-on-canvass of a broken stiletto. Dexter was clearly a poof, not just because he was bringing feminism into the nineteen-eighties or whatever the hell he was doing. Or pretending to do, so no one would guess he was a drug baron.

"Three hundred pounds," said the auctioneer. Gene raised his hand, glad that the expenses would be covered by the Met and probably recovered from Dexter, once he was found guilty.

A lot of bidders dropped out at the seven hundred pound mark. By the time they had reached one thousand pounds, it was just Gene and another man, sitting about five rows in front. He thought about sending Alex to get a look at his face but realised she couldn't just stand up in the middle of the auction. He saw Shaz take a peek at him and wished she had the camera.

"Do I hear one-thousand two hundred?"

Alex saw the other man raise his hand and she frowned. She was watching Dexter too and his reaction to the auction puzzled her. Rather than looking delighted that his painting was selling for so much, he kept looking from Gene to the man in front and back again, a look of worry on his face.

"Don't put your hand up again," she whispered.

"What?" asked Gene, "Why?"

"Because it was supposed to go for six-hundred!"

"Bolly, we aren't paying-" Gene started to say but Alex grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight. He forgot that he was able to use his other hand and let the painting be sold for one thousand, two hundred pounds to the "charming gentleman in the second row."

Gene gave Alex a glass of champagne and took a sip from his own glass.

"So you think the picture of the shoe is the druggie one then?"

Alex sighed. "No, the daffodil is a symbol for drugs, I'm sure of it."

"Then why didn't you let me buy it!"

"Because you went way over the estimated price! It was getting suspicious and besides, you weren't going to get it. The man in the front row probably works for Dexter, acts as a competitor to stop non-dealers buying a dirty painting. We must've forced all the dealers out just before one thousand pounds."

"That's another piece of evidence that's slipped through our fingers, Drake!" Gene groaned.

Alex looked around. "We should mingle a bit, see if we can work out who the dealers are. Get the others to talk to whoever bought a daffodil painting, if they're still around."

As Gene walked off, trying to pretend that his DI hadn't just given him orders, Alex made her way over to the ladies to touch up her make-up then walked past the door. She had noticed another marked 'Private'. She should probably wait for the Guv and a memory forced its way through to the foreground of her mind.

"_I told him to wait for the Guv… if you're smart, you'll learn that being where the Guv is, is the right place to be" _

Alex had found herself in a stairwell. The stairs beckoned her, taunting her. She knew, just _knew_ that the next piece of the jigsaw was up those stairs. List of dealers? List of codes? She placed one hand on the banister.

Suddenly, a hand slammed against her mouth and the barrel of a gun nuzzled her temple. The voice of the shop assistant purred against her ear.

"Well, well, well, the sniffer from Farrant's. What the fuck are you doing here then?"


	8. White Ford Transit

**AN: Thank you for the reviews, as ever!**

**White Ford Transit**

Just as Alex thought she was going to pass out from not enough air, he removed his hand from her mouth.

"Don't make a sound," he warned, and thrust his hand down the front of her dress. When he withdrew it, Alex saw he had her warrant card.

"Detective Inspector Alexandra Drake," he sneered. "What are you, undercover?"

He put the warrant card into his own pocket, making Alex feel oddly naked without it. He pressed the gun into her head. "Walk."

Alex walked forward, knowing that she should be talking, getting him to spare her life, but for the first time, no words were coming. She was speechless with fear.

She was lead from the stairwell through a door into a car park. Some men were standing by a white Ford Transit. They opened the door.

"Get in," they snarled, and Alex started to obey before the assistant barked, "Wait!"

He took a blindfold from the back of the van and tied it around her eyes. He gagged her and tied a rope around her wrist and ankles and pushed her into the back of the van, locking the doors.

Alex waited in there for what seemed like hours. She tried to undo the ropes around her, but the knots were tied too well. But the others were coming, weren't they? Gene would save her, surely?

Somebody did come and open the van doors and climbed in. Someone else slammed the doors shut again and locked it. She heard others climb into the front and she felt the vehicle move.

_Gene? Where are you?_

Disappointingly, no one that remained after the auction had bought a daffodil painting. As for the mingling, Gene was happily prepared to throttle every fake, rich, snobby, arty-farty twat in the room.

An hour later, he wanted to go home, as did the others. The party was wrapping up anyway. He sent Shaz into the Ladies to get Alex, but she wasn't there.

On his third circle of the room, he began to get worried. They couldn't be missing each other all the time, surely? How could he miss her in that dress anyway? Where had she got to?

"Maybe she's gone outside for a smoke," Gene said to the others as he pushed passed them. Dexter had banned smoking inside. He felt it damaged his paintings or the Feng Shui of the room or something.

"She doesn't smoke, Guv," Shaz pointed out.

"I know she doesn't smoke!" Gene snapped. He burst out onto the street.

"Bolly! Bolly!"

She wasn't there. People were starting to leave and he scanned their faces desperately, looking for her. She wasn't there. She wasn't anywhere. Gene turned round to go back inside. Just before he went in, a white transit van passed behind him.

He didn't notice.

**AN: For the next few chapters, I'll be switching between what happens to Alex and what's happening to Gene, but in doing so I switch between Friday to Monday, then the previous Sunday… so yeah, it may get a little confusing.**

**I've tried to make it as clear as possible what day it is, but if it's still not clear (because what happens may be clear to me as the writer but I know isn't always presented clearly), then let me know and I'll look at the chapters again or add more author notes or something.**

**Anyway, I hope you're still enjoying the fic!**


	9. Louise

**AN: Thank you so much for your reviews and I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

**Louise**

It was Monday. Three days after the auction and DI Drake was still missing. The Guv was storming round CID yelling every three minutes for some leads. No-one had anything. Chris had made the suggestion of bringing Dexter in for questioning but Gene had shot that down at once.

"We can't nick him, we don't have evidence that he knows anything about Bolly. And we can't just bring him in for questioning. If she's dead-" Gene's voice cracked and found that he couldn't go along with that line of argument. "If she's alive and he has her, we have to let him go and he'll go back to her. We don't know what she's told him, whether he knows she's a police officer or what. We don't want to endanger her life further!"

_If she still has a life_, everyone thought but no one dared say aloud.

The phone rang. Gene answered it.

"DCI Hunt."

"Hunt? Good. It's DCI Matthews."

"How can I help you, Matthews?"

"It's about your missing DI."

Gene sat up, almost dropping the phone. Everyone in CID stared into his office.

"We may have information for you. Don't get excited, it may not be her and if it is…"

There was a pause that seemed to go on for eternity.

"If it is her, then our information isn't good news. Come round to Fenchurch West and I'll show you."

Gene hung his head. When he was sure he could talk without his voice shaking, he said, "Thank you very much. I'll come immediately."

He hung up and raced towards his Quattro, praying to every God he could name that he wasn't about to identify Alex's body.

The Gods- for now at least- were listening as Gene was nowhere near the morgue. Instead, he was in an interview room, sitting next to DCI Matthews. Across the table, a four year old girl with long blonde hair sat, swinging her legs beneath her chair.

"Tell DCI Hunt, what you've told me, Louise," said DCI Matthews kindly.

"I was playing with my brother in the next street and he saw a van. He was looking at the numbers on the front because he knows things!" She looked at them, wide-eyed. When she thought they looked impressed enough she continued, "He knows things like when the car was made and stuff. I don't know though so I walked off. Nearby though, there were some people having a bonfire."

"Did they see you?" asked Gene?

"No, they were looking the other way."

"Did you hear what they were saying?"

"No," said Louise and hesitated. Finally, she said, "There was a lady."

Gene didn't speak. DCI Matthews asked Louise what the lady looked like.

"Very pretty."

_Definitely Bolly then,_ thought Gene.

"Anything else?"

"She was wearing a princess dress! It was dark blue and her hair was like this!" Louise bunched up her hair on top of her head and pulled down a few locks, trying to replicate Alex's 'do. Gene felt his heart sink.

"What was she doing Louise?"

_Please don't say lying down_, Gene prayed, _don't let her be dead._

"She was standing in a hole. These men were pointed water pistols at her!"

"What?" exclaimed Gene, "Are you sure?"

"They looked like water pistols," said Louise, "like Tommy's. Only they were smaller because you could hold them in one hand and they were black."

_She means guns_ thought Gene. Poor girl, she's witnessed a murder and is too young to understand.

"I didn't see anything after that," Louise was saying. "We turned around and ran off. It was tea time, you see."

There was a pause and Gene felt Matthews look at him sideways.

"Did you hear anything, Louise?"

"Yeah," she said and began to cry. "I didn't like it, I didn't like the noise. It was loud and scary."

"It's OK, Louise, the noise can't hurt you. What kind of noise was it?"

"A bang!"

Gene thought he was going to be sick.

"Did you turn around again?"

"No," said Louise tearfully. "I was too scared and so was Tommy so we ran home and told Mum. She said we had to tell you."

Gene could stand it no longer. Without saying anything, he ran out of the interview room and into the gents. He kneeled in front of the loo and heaved.

When he was finished, he flushed the loo and left the cubicle. Matthews walked in.

"Louise's brother, Tommy, tells us the same story, only he knew that they were guns and is able to tell us the vehicle registration. The wasteland is here, on Fenchurch West patch."

As Gene washed his hands, Matthews spoke again. "The girl didn't actually _see_ the bullet enter Drake-"

"What and that means she's still alive?" said Gene angrily. "Thank you for your help, but please do _not_ give me false hope. The girl and her brother not seeing Alex actually fall does not mean she isn't dead!"

Matthews muttered an apology and turned to leave.

"I want to go," said Gene. He knew it was Matthews' patch but this was important. "If Boll- if DI Drake is there, I want to find her."

Matthews eyed Gene. "Alright."

It was obvious where the grave was. The wasteland was grubby, covered in dead grass and litter. There was a patch of ash indicating a fire all though nothing of the fire remained. Close to, a square of newly turned over soil lay, as though it had recently been ploughed… or something had been buried there.

Gene, Ray and Chris took their spades from the Quattro and began to dig. It was one of the most horrible experiences of Gene's life, knowing he was looking for the worst thing in the world but knowing that _he_ had to find it. Not some kids playing about, not some other coppers from some other station, he, Gene Hunt along with Ray and Chris, her friends, had to find Bolly's body.

However Gene had underestimated the emotional turmoil he was going through. They hadn't been digging long when Gene keeled over.

"Guv?" said Chris in concern, putting a hand on Gene's shoulder.

"Get off me, you poof!" snapped Gene. He leaned on the spade, willing it to go in the soil, but he couldn't bring himself to push it in.

Ray insisted he go and sit down. Gene refused and started an argument that he lost because, in truth, he couldn't continue. It was too much.

He stood by the Quattro. He watched Ray and Chris dig and then stop, around the one-feet mark.

"What is it?" he said, running to the side of the grave. "What is it, what have you found?"

Chris wasn't looking at him. He had turned away and Gene could tell by the way his shoulders were shaking that he was sobbing. Ray faced him, tears welling up in his eyes. For once he didn't seem embarrassed by them.

"Guv- it's her."


	10. Alex's Grave

**AN: Thank you so much for all of your reviews! Believe me, I feel your despair at Alex's fate. Do you like the chapter title? ;)**

**Alex's Grave**

Alex was pulled roughly from the van and untied. As she looked around, she could see she was on a wasteland. All though every second in that van had felt like a year, she was pretty sure they hadn't driven that far. Unfortunately, she didn't recognise her surroundings at all.

Alex watched as her captors dragged a mound of broken furniture from the back of the van. The shop assistant climbed out too, holding a spade, which he gave to her. Alex took it, trying to ignore the molten panic bubbling in her stomach.

Finally, Dominic Dexter himself climbed out of the front of the van, followed by a man she recognised as Michael Farrant, the owner of the furniture store. They both had guns pointed at her.

"Dig," Farrant commanded.

"What?" she breathed in shock.

"You're onto us, aren't you?" said Farrant. "We can't have that. And why should we dig your grave and wear ourselves out when soon you will be unable to feel anything?"

Alex began to dig. It was futile to argue.

When the grave was a foot deep, her captors got bored and made her stop digging. She stood in the hole and a few feet away, pieces of broken furniture burned merrily. Some of the others were gathered around it, chatting amongst themselves, as though another human being wasn't about to die. She realised that Gene had been right, the users had died of overdoses but she had been right too. The fires had been started to get rid of evidence once all the heroin had been extracted. In her case and in the case of Grant Mayhew, it was a calling card. It was a warning.

Farrant and Dexter walked forward keeping their guns pointed at her. This was it. This was how she was going to die. And no one knew where she was. She thought of Gene and wondered if he had missed her yet. Did he know where she was? Would he find her in time? Would it be too late?

Dexter spoke for the first time.

"Goodbye, Alexandra Drake."

"Guv- it's her."

"Her body," Gene whispered.

"No," answered Ray, "look."

He held something out and Gene took it, knowing instantly what it was. He opened it and read the name inside.

"There was this as well," said Ray, holding out Alex's fake engagement ring. Gene took it from him as reverently as he would a real one, had Alex been his real fiancé. Gene wanted to yell at them, he had been so afraid that they had found her body, ugly and covered in soil, three days into decomposition. Then he realised what it meant to find her belongings here, a foot under the ground.

"Get out of her grave," Gene demanded.

"Guv?"

"Get out! She's there! She's a few more inches down and you're standing on her! Show some respect!"

As Ray and Chris scrambled out, Gene jumped in, trying to stand around the edges trying to guess where her face might be and to avoid it with his shoes. He scrabbled at the ground with his fingers, flinging soil and mud out of Alex's grave. Tears blinded his eyes, he couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't breathe.

Just like Alex.

Eight feet down, they allowed themselves to hope again. Ray and Chris eased Gene out of the whole and taken up digging with spades, but carefully in case they damaged Alex's body. As they got closer to six feet, they became more and more nervous… it wouldn't be a shallow grave? But six feet came and went.

Now they were ready to give up and conclude that she was alive- or if she was dead, she wasn't buried here. They wouldn't have had the time or patience to bury her much deeper.

Shaz's voice crackled on the radio. "Guv?"

"She's not here Shaz," said Gene, tired but slightly happy. "We didn't find her body."

"So she might be alive?" Gene could hear that Shaz was trying not to get too excited.

"Could be."

"That's brilliant," said Shaz, giving a quiet, relieved laugh. "I really thought… I really thought DI Drake…" she couldn't continue.

"I know, I know. What did you want Shaz?"

"DCI Matthews called. He said they had located the transit seen by the kids. It's outside a huge house on St. Mark's Street. They're on their way there."

"Tell 'em we'll see them there," said Gene and put the radio in his pocket, feeling happier than he had done in days. That's where Alex was. She had been here, something had happened, now she was on St. Mark's Street. And he was going to find her and bring her home.

A tiny voice in his head, the part of his consciousness that spoke with a posh female voice asked if this wasn't too easy, was he really sure that Drake wasn't down there, that she was at this house? What if she was there and they missed her or if she was dead somewhere else? He ignored the voice. He didn't have time to listen to it. He had a beautiful woman to save.


	11. Ficticious Love Affair

**Fictitious Love Affair **

"Goodbye, Alexandra Drake."

Alex looked back, determined not to close her eyes or blink. If this man was going to kill her, then he would bloody know it. He would know the exact instant her soul left her body and her life terminated. She refused to show fear.

"What was that?" Farrant snapped his head around and Dexter looked at him in confusion.

The men by the fire had stopped talking. The shop assistant was looking guiltily at the floor.

"What did you say, Hargreaves?" Farrant demanded.

The shop assistant looked up, "I said… I said we'd get the other one next time."

"What other one?"

"The one she came into the furniture place with. He was there at the gallery too, but always with other people so we couldn't get to him."

"There's someone else-" Dexter began but Farrant cut him off.

"Was he definitely with _her_ in the gallery today?"

"Yeah. He kissed her."

Farrant looked back at Alex, a sick smile on his face. "Who is he then, love?"

Alex said nothing.

Suddenly Farrant fired his gun, making Alex jump. "WHO IS HE?"

It was a warning shot she knew, but for the first time, she could see a way out. She would _not_ die in this hole.

"DCI Gene Hunt," she said smoothly.

Dexter looked like he was going to cry but Farrant tipped his head back and laughed.

"Hunt? Fenchurch East? We must be in trouble. And you kissed him, eh?" He looked Alex up and down, licking his teeth. "So that's how a woman got so senior in the Met. Sleeping your way to the top are you love?"

_Don't react, don't react, he still has the gun_.

"We kill this bitch and get Hunt then," said Dexter.

"No!" said Alex then cursed herself. This was no time to panic.

"You're standing in your own grave, love," said Dexter, "Little too late to be begging for your life."

"Doesn't solve the Hunt problem, does it Dominic?" said Farrant. "We kill Drake and then what? Start mowing down the rest of the Met?"

"Well letting her live doesn't help!"

"He kissed you, did he? So he'd be very reluctant to let you die…"

Alex could see the cogs turning in Farrant's head. She knew what decision he would come to based on the skewed evidence he received. Of course Gene wouldn't want to lose any of his team but Farrant, who could callously arrange the murder of any of his staff, his cousin's staff and their families would fail to understand this.

A love affair- even a fictitious love affair with a false kiss- he could understand. Exposure to popular culture would have made him aware of stories in which a dashing knight saved a damsel in distress and he would see that same story here and try and make it work to his advantage.

"Get out of there," Farrant barked. "Get in the van. Wait- Hargreaves, leave her warrant card in there. Drake, drop your ring beside it. Don't worry, we'll fill it in!"

Alex obeyed, eavesdropping on their conversation as she did so.

"Look," explained Farrant, "She's worth a lot more alive than dead now that we know what she means to Hunt. We can use her life in a bargain maybe. Get them to call off whatever investigation they've got."

Alex climbed into the van and reflected on her lucky escape. She knew she had just put Gene's life in danger, but so long as he stayed away from these men, he would be OK.

The important thing was that she had bought herself more time and a ticket into the cousins' lair. She had the same rush she had felt when the stairs had beckoned to her. Wherever she was going, there would be answers.

Gene, Ray and Chris pulled up quietly outside a mansion. Gene crossed over to Matthews who was briefing his uniform department.

"It belongs to Dexter. He lives here and paints here. The transit is parked over there, look. Once we've stormed the place, we'll take it away and give it to forensics. Hunt, if you have no objections, my men will take the front and side entrances. Your team can go round the back."

"I have no objections, Matthews."

They split up and went to their respective points of entry. Ray kicked down the door.

"It's one hell of a place…" breathed Chris in wonderment.

"Paid for by filthy money," snarled Gene. Chris stopped admiring the house.

Ten minutes later, they found themselves on the third floor. They crept forwards along a high-walled corridor, guns in the air. Gene was watching the door handles, none of them had bolts or locks, so he didn't bother opening them. Wherever Alex was, if she was here and if she was alive, she wouldn't be behind a door that he could open easily.

Suddenly, they came to one. It looked new. Gene placed a gloved finger to his lips then threw himself against the door. It burst open.

It was empty of people, was what he noticed first. Clothes were strewn everywhere, suits, trousers, dresses, loose socks, shoes with no partner… and a horribly familiar, beautiful blue dress, muddied and ripped.

Gene crouched beside as he would beside a dying relative and he felt Ray and Chris come in too. Ray pointed to earthy patches on the dress. "They're probably from the wasteland."

Gene got up and turned to leave. Ray saw the expression in his eyes and shivered involuntarily. Something bad had happened to Drake, someone had made her take that dress off, had made her stand in her own grave and may even have killed her… when the Manc Lion found whoever was responsible, he was going to do more than just roar.

**AN: Again, thank you so much for all your reviews! And I'm really sorry about the heart attacks and stuff.**

**I'm going on holiday, so there'll be a delay in the next chapter being put up, but I hope you're still enjoying the fic!**


	12. Dawn

**I'm baaack! I was sitting in a bar in Menorca a few days ago and guess what song (honestly) came over the speakers? ;) **

**As ever, thank you so much to those who have reviewed.**

**Dawn**

"In here," the woman said and pushed Alex into the dark room.

Alex had only seen a glimpse of her prison, just before Hargreaves had got a blindfold around her head, but she had been impressed despite herself. A huge mansion surrounded by trees that Alex reckoned would be easy to climb if she was locked in a room by a tree.

Unfortunately, the room Alex now found herself in had no window. A bulb with no shade hung from the ceiling, casting light over mounds of clothes, falling out of drawers and littering the floor. She wasn't even in a room. It was someone's walk-in wardrobe.

"You are allowed to change," said the woman, before closing the door behind her. Alex shivered as she heard a lock click behind her. She wondered if the lock was just to guard the clothes in the room or if the room had been used to hold prisoners before.

Alex counted to a hundred then made her way over to the door. She listened carefully and when she was sure that there was no one outside, she slammed her body against it.

It didn't move. She knew it would for Ray or Gene but she wasn't quite strong enough. Sighing, she reached to her hair then stopped. What, she was going to go running around this place in her gown? Alex took it off and looked around for something to wear, finally settling on an outsized T-shirt and a pair of men's jeans.

Alex removed a hair pin and kneeled down by the lock. She hated picking locks this way, it took ages. She had a set of lock-picking tools in her desk in CID but they weren't with her now.

It took hours to unpick the lock and she gave up several times. Finally, she could open the door. She crept forwards and along the corridor outside. She had no way of locking the door again so now she was out, she would have to stay out.

She came to a window. A pink dawn hung across the sky. _Saturday_ she realised and wondered where the others were. Did they know where she was? Or did they think she had died?

The following Monday, Gene, Ray and Chris passed the window where Alex had stood some days ago admiring the Saturday dawn. They carried on, guns raised, senses alert and silent, keeping an eye on the doors. None of them seemed to have a lock so Gene didn't bother with them.

Until one. Gene stood to one side as Ray lunged against it, causing it to open first time. A horrible sight met their eyes.

Alex left the window and continued walking. If it was dawn, could she assume that most people were asleep? Gingerly, she approached a door at random and pushed it open.

It seemed to be some kind of office. The filing cabinet were locked and she didn't want to pick the lock again, she'd have to get Gene in here with his 'search warrant'. Notebooks on the desk contained hand written money accounts.

She looked in more rooms. Most of the ones on that floor were office-like and had filing cabinets and paperwork strewn on the desk. The second floor had bedrooms. The first two were empty but the third door along revealed Dexter asleep, his hung flung across a naked Hargreaves. Alex almost laughed out loud, which would have been disastrous. Instead she quietly closed the door and abandoned searching the rest of that floor, choosing instead to go downstairs.

The ground floor was clearly the goldmine. Bunsen burners, dirty lab equipment and bags of drugs. There was both heroin and cocaine waiting to be mixed into bowls of paint. Some rooms showed unvarnished furniture. Alex knew what that furniture would become.

As she left one of the rooms, she heard a noise. She paused, trying to work out if it was the creak of a footstep or the trees outside. She reached for a gun before remembering she didn't have it. Her captors had taken it from her.

Alex turned to go back into the room and hide but before she could both Farrant and Dexter appeared from around a corner. Unlike her, both were armed and pointed guns at her head.

Dexter must've woken when she closed his door. Either that or Farrant had already been awake and discovered her empty room. She cursed herself for not just running away as soon as the door was unlocked but she knew she would have to look around. There was a case to solve and she wasn't a damsel in distress, whatever she had made Farrant believe. She was a Police Officer.

"We should shoot you for this," hissed Farrant.

OK, so maybe she _was_ a damsel in distress.

"We have a better idea though," he continued, but he kept his gun up.


	13. The Snooker Table

**Thank you again for reading and reviewing. We're very close to the end now…**

**The Snooker Table**

Alex, though she was still alive, was wishing that she was dead. Because she had tried to escape so soon into her incarceration, she didn't know if this was how they were always going to treat her or if this was some kind of punishment.

She was fed infrequently, she knew that. Sometimes she'd be writhing on the floor in hunger, sometimes she could still taste the last meal if she licked the inner wall of her cheek. They never brought enough, Alex knew that. Cold soup, stale bread, she devoured it all. She tried to count the meals but gave up when she realised there was no pattern and varying gaps of time between the meals. They had taken all the pins out of her hair and placed a guard outside her door. There was no point in escaping.

Alex's sleep, when she could get any over the rumblings of her stomach, was always disturbed, always in childish, petty ways. The guard outside would randomly bang on her door or play loud music. Most of the time she was left alone. She wondered at what point she would go mad with loneliness.

Regardless of whether she was awake or asleep, she dreamed about Gene Hunt. Ever since the gallery, she had been able to feel his lips on hers every time she closed her eyes. She remembered the crushing disappointment she felt when he had admitted that it was just part of the cover. She wondered if his lips were still tingling too. She doubted it.

During one of these dreams, Dexter himself entered her room. Alex was lying on the ground, weak with hunger and disappointed to see that he hadn't brought her food.

He ordered her to get up and she struggled to her feet, all the while a gun stayed pointed at her. Alex was made to walk out of her room and down the corridor into another, much larger room.

A snooker table dominated it. Standing around the edges of the room were Farrant, the woman and all her captors from before, including Hargreaves.

Farrant stepped forward and lifted Alex onto the snooker table. She knew it was hopeless to resist, even if she was strong enough. Dexter always had the gun pointed at her and he was perfectly capable of using her body in a bargain if not her life.

Bargain. Wait.

Alex watched in horror as Hargreaves and some of the others tied her up again (except for her right arm) and held her to the table for good measure. The woman stepped forward and gave Farrant a sharp kitchen knife.

"It's Monday, Alex," Farrant said. "Post travels so much faster during the week."

This made no sense to Alex. "What?"

"We'll return you to them, Alex, first your hand, then the other one, then your feet. If you're lucky, they'll call off the investigation before we decapitate you too much. We could have done this before but surely Hunt would want your flesh to be as fresh as possible."

He grasped her free arm and held the knife against her wrist.

The door burst open. Gene, Ray and Chris took in the scene and Ray was the first to react, punching Dexter in the face. Dexter fell over, his gun spinning away from him. Chris leapt over him to pick up the gun and Ray took out his radio and spoke into it, all the while holding Dexter against the floor.

Gene walked over to the snooker table, to where Alex was being held down by five or so men, a woman and a drug lord with a knife about to cut off her right hand but fortunately surprised into inaction.

"Any chance you could cut off 'er left hand instead? She gave me such a left hook once, my face is still in pain. If Ray here had a hook like that, your arty mate here wouldn't be able to paint daffodils for a month. Ruin your business, wouldn't it?"

"Gene Hunt, I presume," breathed Farrant. His eyes flicked back to Alex, "The knight in shining armour."

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot." Gene grabbed Farrant by the shoulders and slammed his head into the snooker table, keeping an eye on the knife all the time. As Farrant groaned and loss consciousness, Ray and Chris started on the others and were joined by Fenchurch West.

Gene, Ray and Chris cuffed all criminals they could find, Gene scanning around the room for Alex who he had lost in the sudden crowd of officers. He didn't find her until he was shoving what he thought was the last of the gang through the door that he saw her in the corridor outside, leaning against the wall, her eyes closed. He waited until there was no one around then approached her and she opened her eyes as he gently touched her elbow.

"Bolls, look at me. Are you hurt?"

"No," said Alex and Gene was shocked at how weak her voice was, "I'm tired and hungry but not hurt. I'm OK."

"Bolly," Gene dropped his voice to a whisper, "We found your dress. Did they…?"

"No, nothing like that, I promise."

"Oh, good, good," said Gene with relief and patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. As he stepped backwards, he felt an arm around his chest and a knife against his throat.

_Stupid, stupid!_ He hadn't taken the knife away from the unconscious Farrant, meaning he would still be armed when he came round. He must have regained consciousness straight away and rolled somewhere out of sight, thus evading arrest.

Opposite him, Alex's eyes widened in fear for a split second before she resumed a more professional expression.

"Michael."

Gene closed his eyes briefly. He knew what she was trying to do, how many times had he watched her?

"It won't help you, killing this officer." she said, calmly.

Gene felt the blade shake against his skin and he was suddenly away of his artery pulsating beneath the blade.

"You think you're very clever, Alex," Farrant snarled, his breath hot against Gene's neck, "You talked your way out of your own death, you think that'll work again?"

"You made the right choice when you didn't kill me," Alex said quietly, "Do the right thing again."

The knife stopped shaking and then Gene acted, elbowing the body behind him. He heard Farrant say, "Oof," and at that moment, he wrenched the arm holding the knife as far away from his body as possible. Somewhere Alex was shouting for back-up but Gene was too busy watching the point of the knife come rushing back towards him.


	14. The Ring

**Well, dear readers, we come to the final chapter. Thank you for reading and reviewing. I hope you enjoy.**

**The Ring**

Gene veered out of the way and felt something sharp skim at the skin beneath his ear. Alex cried out in shock but the cut wasn't deep, it had barely drawn blood…

He caught Farrant's knife arm again, causing him to simply transfer the knife into his other hand, but Alex was ready for that and snatched it out of his hand. She threw it as far away from her as possible and Gene wrestled Farrant to the floor. As Gene snapped handcuffs around his wrists, he said, "Michael Farrant, I am arresting you for a list of crimes so long that if they were a shopping list, every one of Bolly's posh friends would be crippled with debt."

The camera that they had tried to take to the gallery was still in the Quattro, so Chris was sent to get it once everyone in the house was under arrest and taken away. Whole filing cabinets were removed, as were the notebooks and papers on the desk and, of course, the drugs. Chris snapped away in the makeshift labs. At last, there was evidence against them and overwhelming evidence at that.

Over the next few weeks, forensics reported that Alex's DNA could be found all over the inside of the Transit, the alibis that her captors gave for the night of the Mayhew fire only involved each other and consequently would fail to stand up in court.

The filing cabinets revealed the motive for Mayhew's murder: a series of letters from Mayhew asking for money in return for his silence on the drugs. Several other similar letters from other people were found too, all though none were dated after the Mayhew fire. It seemed the fire, complete with the calling card of partially destroyed furniture, had done its job.

"Shame forensics took my dress away," Alex mused.

She was leaning against the Guv's desk facing the windows that separated his office from CID, now currently empty. Gene handed her a glass of whiskey and she sipped it, taking just enough to cover her lips. Gene gulped his.

"It was expensive, you know."

"It looked it," said Gene, generously. He held something out to her and she took it. "New cover. Mud-stains go out of fashion, did they?"

Alex smiled, and took her new warrant card. "I suppose it doesn't matter but whilst you were digging up my so-called grave, did you find a ring?"

Gene had forgotten about the ring. He downed the rest of his drink, set the glass down and opened the top drawer of his desk.

"You mean this?"

The sparkle of the ring matched the sparkle of her eyes and he had a sudden urge to take her hand in his and push it onto her ring finger. Instead he held it out and she took it, placing it in her pocket.

"Gene?" Alex said after a while.

"Mmm?"

"Did you really think I was dead?"

There was no sparkle in her eyes now. She looked serious and almost- _afraid_. He got up from behind his desk and walked round to her.

"Yeah, yeah I did. Thinking I was going to find your body…" his voice cracked and he looked down at the floor. _Don't start bloody crying_.

Alex reached out and touched his face with her hand, a gentle caress.

"I thought I was dead," she said, her eyes so bright that Gene was worried that _she_ would start crying, "Standing in my grave…"

"Stop it," he said, reaching out so now he was touching _her_ face. She dropped her hand to his arm. "You aren't dead, you hear me? You aren't dead. You're alive…"

On _alive_, he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to hers. They kissed slowly and deeply and sweetly. They weren't undercover. This wasn't staged to make an untrue story believable or to score points over the other in a game of one-upmanship. This was Gene and Alex, Alex and Gene, replacing a kiss that had been false with one that was True.


End file.
